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you will miss your dinners altogether. Good fortune. God bless you all." |
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He turned to say a few courteous words to the priest while the men dispersed. Ian's chaplain was a sensible young man, not nearly as good or learned as Father Francis but also far less likely to preach a sermon on the evils of violence just before men went into action. In fact, he never preached sermons before battles, only offered the men the mystical comfort of the Mass. And when he did preach, few of his sermons failed to include the themes of upholding honor and righteous wrath, nor was he above wearing armor and wielding a mace to defend his Bible and chalice and holy relics. Father Jocelyn, Ian believed, would rise high in the churchand he would do the best he could to help him. Ian finished what he was saying, and the priest began to fold up his traveling altar. |
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The young man's eyes were bright, his color high. He was almost as excited as Geoffrey. It occurred to Ian for the first time that Sir Robert might never have been involved in taking a keep beforehe had never thought to ask. It did not matter, because he was part of Ian's own personal fighting force and Ian had no doubts at all about his courage, but he wondered under whom he had trained. |
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"Very well. Come and share my breakfast. We do not have much time. Nothing is wrong with the preparations?" |
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"Oh no, Lord Ian. The ramps are in place, covered with brush, and the scaling ladders are in the ditch covered with mud. They need only to be lifted to the ramps." |
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An expression of acute distaste crossed Ian's face. "Whose brilliant thought was that?" |
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"Mine, my lord," Robert replied apprehensively. "I |
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